


One Of Us Should Know What We're Doing

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, First Time Topping, Frottage, Held Down, Oral Sex, Woman on Top, learning to domme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michael tells Jennifer he likes it kinky, she has all these ideas about what he means.  They start easy: she'll pin him down and tell him when he can come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Of Us Should Know What We're Doing

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Lawbender Frigday](http://helens78.tumblr.com/tagged/lawbender+frigday), which remains A Thing in the heads of me and Sabine.
> 
> Het may still feel awkward, but my love for Jennifer Lawrence is so epic I cannot even _begin_ to say, so. I had fun writing her inner dialogue in this. :)

"I am into this, I am _totally_ into this, I just. I don't know what to do, I don't even _own_ heels that high."

"How high?" Michael shoots Jennifer a look, smirking. "Did I say anything about a high heel fetish?"

Jennifer rolls her eyes. "No," she sighs, "but you know, you say you're into kinky stuff, you like being down on the ground, I'm gonna figure--"

"That I want you in a corset and thigh-high boots, with a riding crop in your opera-length-gloved hands, saying something like, 'Lick my pussy, you pathetic slime'?"

Jennifer coughs. She's not normally given to blushing, but that's... an image.

"Something like that," she says.

"Relax." Michael shakes his head. "Nothing against corsets, thigh-high boots, riding crops, gloves, or humiliating dirty talk--"

" _Jesus_ , go ahead and say something like that and expect me to have any brain cells left--"

"--but I was thinking something a little more like, you pin me down, tell me when I can come."

Jennifer raises both eyebrows. "Isn't that, uh... kind of up to biology?"

Michael grins, and oh, damn him, it's one of those shark grins, one of those ear-to-ear grins, one of those stupid, _stupid_ grins that made her giggle until she snorted, the first night they met. Those are _patently unfair_ , she's a sucker for guys who smile like every day is the best day ever.

She is, she's pretty sure, a sucker in general, because set flings don't last. But fuck it. He's cute and he's funny and he is really, _really_ hung, and she's allowed to be shallow, that's absolutely okay. It's okay because she _says_ it's okay, and nobody's told her otherwise. Yet.

"Less than you'd think," Michael finally answers, and Jennifer knows she's going to take him up on it. Because what is she, stupid?

* * *

The thing about pinning Michael down is-- well, she thinks maybe she could _do_ it. For real. She worked out for this shoot. She's in fantastic shape. Plus he probably weighs about a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.

She squirms down against his dick while holding his wrists in her hands. Her pussy's already wet, so, okay, _yes_ , she's into this. A lot more than she thought she'd be.

Michael's into it too, his dick hard underneath her, a little bit of a blush coming up in his chest. "Aren't you pretty," she coos at him. He flashes her a grin for a split-second, but then twists a little in her grip. She tightens her hands automatically, leans her weight down on him a little harder. He groans out loud and relaxes, lets her hold him.

She's probably _dripping_ on his dick now. She can feel the heat between her legs, the slickness against her own thighs. She slides back and forth, gets his dick wet with it, but mostly it's just because his dick feels good against her cunt, really good and hot and solid and thick against her pussy lips. It took two tries to get him all the way into her, that first night, but boy, she felt like she deserved a fucking trophy.

Which is Michael. He's the trophy. She snickers, and he looks up at her with his eyebrows drawn together. Awww, the puppy look. She likes the puppy look. _Arf._

"Something funny?"

"Noooo, God," she says, sliding back and forth again, just to feel how long he is. "It's not funny, it's just... this is working for me. A lot." Back and forth, back and forth, this is teasing her as much as it's teasing him. She can get off just by touching her clit, God knows her Hitachi Magic Wand has been useful on any number of occasions, but what she likes-- what she really, really likes-- is something inside her. Something nice and thick, something that makes her feel _stretched_. What the hell. She wouldn't be in the acting business if she weren't ambitious, right?

"I was getting that impression," Michael says. He's trying to go light with the tone, but his hips are working underneath her. If she let him-- _if_ she _let_ him, and whoa, okay, that's up to _her_ , she's realizing-- he'd be rocking up into her, his cock sliding into her, she'd have to steady him with one hand to get him there. And that would mean letting one of his hands _up_. Hmm. Quandary.

"I wonder if I could get you off like this," she says, squirming down hard and then rubbing her slick pussy against him yet _again_. He tilts his head back and groans, and not fair, really, she's stretched out as it is to hold him down, she'd probably totally lose her position if she bent her head down to get her teeth on his neck. Also, biting might be off-limits. They _are_ still working. "What do you think, you tell me. Could I get you off this way?"

"It would..." He has to stop and lick his lips, take a few deep breaths, which is really, really awesome. "Depend," he finishes.

"On...?"

"How long we were... _mmmf_... at it, what we were... doing, what you were _saying_..."

At that, she holds still. "What would you want me to say?"

He manages to get his eyes open. "Well-- if we're talking about things that would get me off-- you could say something like, 'give it to me'. Or, ah. You know. 'Come for me.'"

Could she growl something like that? She's more used to panting and moaning and sometimes just kind of making noises. Though it's also true that she's more inclined to say _come on_ or _yeah, right there, fuck, that's good_ than _please, Michael, fuck me with your big dick_. "Please" is kind of not her thing.

"I could try."

"Well, or." Michael looks her over, smiles. "We could also fuck. It's not like I'd _mind_."

"You don't think I can do it?"

"Didn't say that."

"You don't think I can do it."

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Didn't say that at all."

"You are _so_ asking for it."

He smiles again, but his breath is coming short and sharp now, and she's going to do this. She's going to make him come all over his stomach, just from squirming down on him and pinning him and _telling him to_.

She's going to, because she can do it. She can do _anything_. Maybe when she's done, she'll crawl up his body and sit on his face and make him eat her out... yeah, that's a plan, that's a plan and a half right there.

She starts rocking back and forth on him again, her nails sinking into the backs of his wrists.

"See," she whispers, and she's working that voice, she's remembering all her voice training and her breathing exercises, and she's staying calm and even, "the thing is, it's not like you really had to talk me into all this. Remember?"

She presses her thumb against the inside of his wrist, feels his pulse racing under her grip. Her brain goes a little addled. Fffff-- _she's_ doing that. She's doing that. To _him_. God.

Lines, right, what are lines, what are her _lines_. "Remember what I said?"

She's not going easy on his dick right now. She's got a good hard rhythm going, she's slick enough between her legs that she's just gliding and gliding now, and Michael's looking up at her with these wide, wide eyes that make her wonder if he's going to be able to keep talking through this whole thing. Maybe not. Maybe that would be _hot as fuck_ , making him go completely non-verbal.

But he does manage to find his voice, and he says, "You said, 'I am totally into this.'"

"Right." Where was she going with that? "Which. I am. And so here you are, _under_ me, and I've got you pinned, and I bet you really want to fuck me right now, don't you?" She bears down, really presses her pussy tight against his dick. "Don't you?"

He nods. "Hell, yes-- would you-- _please._ "

This is crazy. She's got this ridiculously fine-ass man under her and _he's_ saying _please_. She feels the jolt of that all the way through her body, centering between her legs, her clit feeling so hot and sensitive she's just never going to last. She could tip herself down and rub up just right, and she'd be a goner, yelling out loud because this is already _that damn good_.

But Cosmo articles to the contrary, she's usually just good for one, which sucks, but what are you going to do. She'd rather save that one time for Michael's mouth.

"I'm not going to fuck you." She grins at the expression on his face-- crestfallen, okay, but also turned on and... fuck, what exactly does _obedient_ look like as a facial expression, anyway? Is that it? Is that what he's wearing on his face? "I'm not going to fuck you, because I want to get you off like this, and then I want to sit on your face." He sucks in a breath, licking his lips-- maybe to signal agreement, maybe because he can already imagine how good her pussy's going to taste. For real, she has licked her fingers clean after frigging herself stupid and she is _tasty as sin_. She knows he likes to do that, and she's pretty sure she can use the wall to hold herself upright if she's straddling his head.

"Okay," he says. "Just-- I'm pretty close, all I need is a little more, and then telling me should do it..."

"Oh, baby. Baby, baby, baby..." She rubs her thumb back and forth across the inside of his wrist. "I wasn't _done_ with this or anything, don't worry."

He gives her a short little laugh. "You have a knack," he says. "You're really doing well with this."

"Really?" She giggles, fast, before she catches herself-- do badass dominatrixes... dominatrices... whatever, whatever, do they giggle? They probably don't giggle. She clears her throat and schools her expression, but she can tell by the ache in her cheeks that she's smiling again, and she's been smiling pretty hard for a while.

"You really are."

"That's reassuring."

"Good."

"Shouldn't I be reassuring you?"

"We'll get there." He grins. "What do you think, do you want to tell me to get off...?"

"You better be glad I can't just, like, _tell_ you. I'd sneak over to you on lunch break and just be, like, 'Come in your pants, Michael'--"

She's kidding, mostly, but his eyes just about cross. _Whoa._ Hot.

"They'd kill me," he manages, after a few seconds. "The costumer threatened to stab any of the CIA agents who got anything on their suits, imagine what she'd do to me."

She starts moving again. Michael shudders and closes his eyes, his mouth opening as he takes in deep breath after deep breath. She's used to the flush rising up in his cheeks when he's close, and she's used to the way he always looks like he's racing for the finish line when they get to this point, but she's still having a hard time convincing herself that this is what he really _wants_.

This. _Her._ Not just there, not just because they're fucking, but because he wants her to tell him to _do it_ , to go over, to fucking come already--

Out loud, right, she has to say that out loud.

"Come," she stammers, and then a little louder, a little more confident, "You can do it now, right? So do it. _Do it._ Come. C'mon, you're right there, you don't get dessert until you come for me, _come_ \--"

He lets out this little strangled sound, one she's never heard him make before, and then he _does it_ , his hips jerking wildly underneath her, his jizz shooting all over his stomach and his chest. She kind of backs out of the way a little, scoots back to let the come fly where it may, but as soon as he's finished and he's just lying there, messy, dazed, she crawls right up his body-- she accidentally knees him in the ribs, but she's pretty sure he doesn't even notice-- and she hovers, thighs tense, just about ready to jill herself off _right over his face_ if he doesn't have enough brain cells left to lick her.

"Hey," she says. "You still up for--"

He grabs her by the thighs and yanks her down, and both her arms go flailing out for the wall, for the headboard, anything that'll keep her from knocking her head into the wall or really falling anywhere.

Michael's mouth is so big it _should_ get used for this, he should _always_ be giving people head, he should, like, give it on the _street_. Maybe if she were a guy, all those teeth would give her pause, but she's not, she's a girl, and he's got a big, broad tongue and he knows how to use it, _fuck_. He licks her pussy all the way from her opening, way down, _God_ , past her pussy lips and up and _up_ , and she sobs out a moan when his tongue rubs hot and easy against her clit. He's almost gentle about it, which, _yeah_ , thank God, if he were flicking at it or biting it she'd have to smack him one. But his breath is hot all around her, and his tongue is stroking her just right, and she starts to move again, just a little, a fraction of an inch back and forth as she gets closer and closer and closer.

"Just like that," she breathes down at him, "God, don't stop doing that, don't change anything, just keep licking me like that, keep going, keep going--"

His hands tighten on her thighs, but his tongue doesn't change rhythm and the strokes stay exactly the way she wants them. "Oh, God, yeah, that's-- that's--"

She _does_ yell, and then she's pretty sure she reaches down and grabs him by the hair, holding his mouth hot and still against her clit, because her head actually knocks into the wall while she's coming, which kind of hurts. But she doesn't care, she _really, really_ doesn't care, she just keeps coming and coming, her hand tight in Michael's hair, her pussy hot against his face, she is making a _mess_ of him, she's _wrecking_ him, and she _really, really likes it_.

She barely manages to roll off him when she's done, and she ends up with her head over the side of the bed and her legs sprawled out over his chest. "Oh, fuck, I have jizz on the back of my thigh," she mumbles, and moves her leg.

Michael, _bastard_ , laughs himself hoarse. After a while, she tilts her head up to look at him, and she gives him her best frown. It just makes him laugh harder. She's going to have to work on that.

"Why are _you_ so cheerful," she mutters, putting her head back down, but she's grinning, too, and she kind of doesn't mind that there's spunk everywhere and that Michael's slipping out from under her legs so he can head to the bathroom and clean up. She watches him go, upside-down, her head still leaning back and the blood rushing to it a little, and she could do this again. She's pretty sure she could do all this again.


End file.
